THE LAST TIME I CRIED
“IN THIS MOMENT, I FEEL…”
I’ve been doing that a lot lately: the momentary check in with my feet + heartbeat, and with it the reminder that in THIS moment, I have everything I need-- particularly so I don’t get caught in past or future stories. This week, said reminder was super clear for me as I navigate my newfound energy, alone but not lonely, learning to really love me. As I slow down, the world opens up - new friends and opportunities. Last week was chock full of work and socializing and a whirlwind 24 hrs in Cali designing a new class for Mayweather’s boxing franchise programming. Lots of expended energy left me desiring extra alone time to refuel following. So, I obeyed my heart speak, went inward to focus selfishly, grateful that currently, my time and space affords me freedom to just be. I declined plans, and never once felt lonely, instead of reaching out for connection, I focused on connecting to me. After a lifetime spent running away from feeling anything, the more I process, the more peace I find internally, facing my shame and my grief. Yes, I’ll share more, eventually, with hopes that my vulnerability will be helpful to others suffering.
My energy felt heavy post whirlwind travel at the beginning of the week, weirdly aligned with Thursday’s new moon approaching. Tuesday, as part of my therapy, I had an energy healing. My inner skeptic wants to reject this woo woo spirituality, but I’m intensely connected and this experience was deep. So deep that I woke Wednesday and couldn't move my body. Proud that after years of overworking and dissociating, I’m finally listening to my physicality. The stillness allows me to receive, to feel my body communicating physical and emotional stuck energy: sluggish digestion, knotted ropes in my belly wound tightly and a hangover haze, without having drank anything. After ample rest, I finally got dressed for boxing + yoga, my chosen release, my self prescribed anti-anxiety medicine for decades, both requiring movement in tandem with deep breaths. Following, I acknowledged my need for further self care, or “reparenting” and took myself for blow dry therapy, my weekly $20 compassion routine. As the stylist pulled the moisture from my hair not so gently, I bowed my head and allowed my tears to flow wildly. That stuck emotion Iwas carrying, finally exiting, and with it, I realized the sentiment that needed shedding. Anger! Lodged deep in my belly. And instead of fighting it, I just let it be. Fully embodied, I let my feelings be seen, celebrating the raw emotion, like a child who cries when they’re sad and laughs when happy, without caring who’s watching. Such pure emotion is magic and this week, that was me.
WE are SO afraid to feel our feelings, to yell and scream, laugh, cry, speak our dreams, because of conditioning. Because of that one time, when we were five and someone told us not to cry. “Behave! You are embarrassing me.” Sure there are rules in society, but that childlike nature is inside all of us deep, as is the emotion we were never allowed to speak. “Stop crying, you’ll be fine,” is a phrase used commonly.
This week I celebrated my emotion shamelessly. Because life, feelings, time, is fleeting. And as my cry released, my anxiety and furrowed brow decreased, and my shallow chest breathing returned to my belly.
All of this shit we take on, our traumas, our stories, are stored in our bodies.
The following day, I woke up lighter, reemerging into society, and for the first time in over a week I stacked social plans, and dinner at Austin favorite, Jeffreys. Perfect timing post inward journey, unstuck from my anger, ready to celebrate with clarity, Present in everything. The post covid room hummed, the blue velvet banquettes felt soft on my seat, as we sipped pristine blue-cheese stuffed olive martinis. The fresh orchids dangled in candle lit bathrooms, accented with scented napkins while dizzied waitstaff in manicured uniforms, overzealously poured nine dollar bottled water we didn’t order as the sun began setting brightly from the street. After a week of “going in,” dinner out with friends was a real treat.
I wasn’t starving but Jeffrey’s is a really hard seat. As soon as I arrived I dialed in immediately, breath steady, body ready, to be completely present with my company. My gin martini was cold, perfectly complimenting the well fed and rested dry aged meat, and piping hot popovers with rosemary honey. Time passed quickly and the staff dropped the dessert menu prematurely. Without shame I said politely, “It seems like you need the table, we don’t want dessert, but we’d like another drink. We can move to the bar, if there are seats?” Sure,” our server Augustin Finn obliged. We were having too much fun, to end the evening so rapidly.
These days I spend less energy on what feels unnecessary, unconcerned with the perfect outfit or pondering the menu indecisively. Instead, I attempt to be present in each moment, I’ve slowed down to savor everything: the words, tastes and feelings. We laughed like kids. I even caught myself snorting, making animal noises, not disruptive but uninterested in whomever was listening. The attention to detail that took hours to create, hours of joy without care of it getting too late, and the house made sugar coated raspberry gelées to wash down another round, this time ice cold Redbreast 12, my favorite.
All of it, pertinent, the prior day spent in self inquiry after tending to the anger in my belly, releasing my feelings, and ultimately celebrating, instead of running. Ahh the power of connection both to others and to me. Simple, really. Laughs, cries, and the well timed wild full moon in the sky. Personally, I think the highs and lows are what makes life interesting. The sweet tastes sweeter after the sour. The snorts can’t be planned and the cries become cancers if they’re not cried after a while. I left the restaurant, no rush, belly full, but not stuffed, heart open to greet the Strawberry moon and arrived home with so much gratitude. I headed to the window and stared at it staring back at me, eyes wide, remembering a favorite book my mom read to me as a child:
“Goodnight Moon. Goodnight room Goodnight cow jumping over the moon Goodnight light And the red balloon Goodnight bears … Goodnight clocks And goodnight socks Goodnight little house And goodnight mouse … Goodnight stars… Goodnight air Goodnight noises everywhere…”
We are all just children, with feelings, dressed up in grown up clothing. Re-experiencing old wounds until we face them and start healing. I hopped in bed to cold sheets on my feets and the soft pillow under my cheek, snuggled up and held, every inch of me, soul fed, void of any yearning, alone but not lonely.
Time freezes when you practice presence, when you are where you are. Not running or escaping, just capturing, in taking This breath, This moment. This feeling. This bite. This sip. This laugh. This tear. This hug. This sound. This life. Entirely. Your soul Your presence Is inviting You. To just be. Here. Acknowledging everything. “If you lived in your heart you would be home right now” Your presence is your gift. Start celebrating. xox Olivia
**put a few links in the text places and texts that have been helpful to me as I dove into my own healing journey. Specifically “How to Do the Work” by Nicole LePera, “Your Body Keeps the Score,” and techniques by Peter Levine. As always, am happy to share more resources, please feel free to email me.